


Teardrops & Buzzers

by MarrowInTheBone



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Angst, Dubious Science, Family, Gen, Horror Elements, Humor, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route - "I want to stay with you.", Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 08:43:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15926891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarrowInTheBone/pseuds/MarrowInTheBone
Summary: (Smells like static and goop.)Sans had used the machine to study the SAVing habits of both Flowey and Frisk. He didn't know the machine could do anything else––let alone be the key to rescuing his father.





	Teardrops & Buzzers

**Author's Note:**

> This'll be the last of my old Undertale works I'll post (for now).

Yellow, yellow, yellow––the color was terribly familiar to his weary eye sockets. At this point, his eye lights were extremely dim––it resulted in a hazy vision, but it was still workable––and there was the alarmingly pungent smell of coffee in the air. With a yawn, Sans picked up his mug of joe and sipped it, not taking his eye lights off of the blinking screen that fed him that single color. Sure, it was a bit boring, but it was better than sleeping at times.

...And when he said “at times,” he apparently meant nearly every day of the week. He let out a sigh as he leaned further in his office chair––a favorite of both Frisk and Papyrus when he would allow them into his lab (after putting covers on everything, of course). If anyone found out about this ( _especially_ Papyrus or Toriel––he shuddered thinking about it), they would want to know why the so-called “lazybones” was up: “Why aren’t you sleeping? Why do you always look so tired? What are you even doing all night?” And, to be honest, Papyrus, Toriel and the kid were already becoming suspicious. All it would take would be a little bit of prodding and snooping around, and “all would be known (except not really).”

Well, whatever. It had been forever since Sans really thought about the consequences of his actions, anyhow. So, there he stayed, watching over the machine as it blinked yellow, yellow, yellow, blue, ye––wait... blue? Sans’ eye lights brightened slightly as his focus sharpened. He grabbed one of the (many, many) dials on the thing and twisted back to the color. Yep, it was without a doubt blue, and not some misconception borne from sleep deficiency. Yellow represented a SAVE––which the kid apparently did every morning; not that he would fault them––but... what did blue mean?

Without warning, orange flashed on the screen, making Sans wince and squint his eye sockets at the sudden flash of a bright color. Now orange? Sans––his brow furrowed by this point––got up out of his seat, stumbled his way to his desk and opened up the top drawer, revealing a set of blueprints. As he grabbed and struggled to keep them from furling back up as he set them on the desk, Sans could see the colored light the screen produced, given the dark room: blue, orange, orange, blue, blue, orange, blue, blue, blue. Strangely, it began to flicker faster and Sans couldn’t help but ascribe that to growing aggression from... whatever it was.

Finally succeeding in getting the blueprints to stay down, he pored over the writings on them... only to discover nothing. There was nothing about blue and orange even existing as an option on this thing. So, apparently, he was a witness to yet another impossibility. _Go figure_.

It was at this point that he noticed that the screen was no longer flickering; rather, it was stuck on one solid color: blue. He turned around to face the machine, which was apparently all the prompting it needed to let out a sound akin to a buzzer––except, it sounded like...

Sans’ eye sockets widened before he shook his skull. If he were starting to take leaps in thinking like that, then he really did need sleep. Or, at least, that was what he rationalized until a distinct, undeniable symbol formed on the screen, shaking slightly on the blueness: a black teardrop.

It was a capital “S” in a skeleton language that had long since been dead: Wingdings. The only person Sans had ever known who was fluent in it was... was...

The negative buzzer sound grew louder as if shouting “Yes! Yes! You’re getting it!” But, in truth, that wasn’t what it was saying at all. Wingdings required both a vocal sound and either a signal using the hands or face or a written character. That buzzer noise accompanied with the teardrop “S” meant something Sans knew very well: his own name. The machine was screaming his own name at him.

At this revelation, the machine turned off, leaving Sans in a dark room. He couldn’t help but stare at the thing for a few moments (hours? he could never tell now) before he could finally manage to get a word out:

“Damn.”

~

Most people who had a shred of logic and self-preservation would not continue to mess with the supernatural after one meeting––but, of course, Sans was going the stupid-horror-movie-protagonist route and was making it his job (well, third) to have another encounter with _him_.

Whatever the old man had done in order to communicate with Sans through the machine had done something to it, because when he had tried to turn it on again after regaining his sense, it had flicked on to nothing. So, that was a week of work fixing it (when he was supposed to be snoozing)––but, hey, it was worth it in Sans’ book, because that meant that the machine was at least semi-working like it was supposed to. Then there was the fact, of course, that Sans had his first encounter with the guy since he had been a babybones.

However, he didn’t just want that one meeting; call him greedy, but he wanted to be able to see him again every day. It (oddly enough) motivated him to fine-tune the machine to that perfect sweet spot. It was an extremely odd feeling to Sans, even though it made sense for him to feel this way. As he messed with the insides of the machine with a Philips screwdriver, it hit him: he felt **determined** –– **determined** to bring the old man back for both himself and Papyrus.

Wow. Quite the change of pace, huh? Not that he minded the feeling; it felt nice to care after such a long period of **apathy** , of...

He stopped his train of thought and focused on the task.

~

Sans was starting to get frustrated, but it was hard to blame him. He had gone through _so many_ frequency ranges (even Googling supposed radio frequency hotspots for the supernatural), but had gotten nothing more than white noise or the occasional Spanish song. He was so close, and it was infuriating. Wasn’t the universe done playing with him yet?

Why was he even bothering to ask?

With a sigh, he closed the back of the machine, having finished the upgrade needed to increase the range it would be able to pick up signals. Hopefully, that would be his saving grace. He twisted the dial, listening in for that buzzer noise (or something of that caliber)––only to encounter yet another bouncy, (mockingly) happy song sang in Spanish. He took his hand off the dial as if it had offended him deeply and clenched his hand, cursing under his breath.

“Sans?” The sudden voice brought him out of his line of curses. He looked up towards the door where Papyrus was, still in his racecar pajamas––Sans had to have forgotten to lock the door.

“Oh,” Sans began, acting nonchalant (despite the machine being uncovered for Papyrus to see) as he swiveled his seat toward him, “hey, Papyrus. What’re ya doin’ up so late?”

At the question, Papyrus’ visage devolved into one of concern as he went down the stairs leading into the basement-laboratory. “It’s five in the morning, Sans,” he clarified, his expression becoming more worried when he (most likely) saw the dark circles underneath Sans’ eye sockets.

“Oh,” Sans uttered plainly. The Spanish song continued to play, only amplifying the awkwardness between the two. He swiveled back and turned the machine off, deciding silence would be better. (It also served as the perfect excuse to not look Papyrus in the face.)

“Sans,” Papyrus said as he laid a hand on Sans’ shoulder, “please look at me.” He complied (although reluctantly). “Have you been having nightmares?”

Sans tensed up quickly. “Huh?” Sans uttered, mentally wincing at himself; he reacted way too fast for the answer to be “No.”

“It’s just...” Papyrus started. “You’ve seemed to not be sleeping as much lately, and I know you had problems with nightmares when we were younger...”

_For the exact same reason, too._

“I’ve––” Sans was about to say "been working" when he realized how odd that was for him (and that Papyrus would be even more concerned). “...Just been busy, s’all,” he settled on, given its ambiguity.

Papyrus frowned and looked behind him. “...With that?”

 _Orange_.

Sans’ eye sockets widened as the colored light suddenly appeared on his brother’s (now surprised) face, and swiveled to see the screen displaying the same hue.

“That’s a neat feature!” Papyrus commented, possibly trying to lighten up the atmosphere, before noticing Sans’ intense staring at it. “...Is it not supposed to do that?”

At the question, a new sound played––a continuous “e” sound––and a new symbol showed up on the screen: a triangular flag being blown in the wind––a “P.” It meant––

“Papyrus,” Papyrus muttered to himself. “Wait...” He frowned, looking both terribly confused and in deep thought. “How do I know that...?” Suddenly, the orange and flag disappeared and were replaced with dark cyan and a hand pointing up with its index finger. Way louder than it had previously done it, it began to shrill out an “ah” that startled the both of them.

Sans was quick to snap his gaze to Papyrus, to begin to attempt to explain this away so Papyrus wouldn’t start to question, to _wonder_ , when he stopped dead at his expression. Papyrus’ visage rapidly switched from one to startlement, to confusion, to concentration, to shock and then it finally settled on one that simultaneously relieved and frightened Sans profoundly: realization.

“Dad!” Papyrus finally managed to get out, bursting out into a run toward the machine. “I... I remember! I remember!” Papyrus nearly screeched out as he slapped his hands on the screen, eye sockets wide and quickly flicking about the cyan, as if searching for some other message. “I remember! You adopted us, you were the Royal Scientist, you made the Core! But––But then you disappeared... Why?! What happened?!” He stared desperately at the screen as Sans sat on his office chair, completely dumbfounded by the scene. _He remembered_.

“DAD! PLEASE ANSWER ME!” Papyrus yelled out, shaking the machine. The black teardrop appeared again as the machine gave a low “oh” and shut off with a sigh, encompassing the skelebros in the dark. In the dimness, Sans could make out Papyrus letting go of the machine and stepping back, still gaping at it. “Sorry,” it––no, _he_ had said

“D-Dad...” Papyrus trailed off before allowing the silence to finish his sentence. Sans still remained firmly shocked still and speechless in his seat, but now opted to hold tighter onto the arms of it. “I... I forgot about you...” _Tighter_. “...Sans,” Papyrus began, “you didn’t forget him, did you?”

“I...” There wasn’t any point in lying anymore, was there? “Yeah. I always remembered him.” It was whispered, and yet carried a heavily weighted burden he had borne since the Core incident––the fear when he realized no one knew his dad, him or Papyrus; the sudden responsibility of supporting both himself and his brother; the blind and ultimately useless hope that Dad would come back home soon, and that Sans just had to wait.

No one spoke for a while, until, finally, Papyrus whispered out, “I’m sorry.”

 _Tighter_.

~

As expected, Papyrus wanted answers, explanations––and Sans gave them to him. They were whispered out in the same basement on that same morning as if they could be heard by the rest of the (still sleeping) residents. Really, it was less because of them and more because of the subject of the conversation––much like talking of those who had recently passed. Except, their dad wasn’t dead. He was... nonexistent and yet existent at the same time, having made an imprint on this world and yet being forgotten by all except for Sans. A limbo, it seemed like their dad was in.

“...’N’ that’s ‘bout everythin’ I know,” Sans ended, finally looking his brother in the eye sockets. Papyrus had been, surprisingly (and frighteningly), silent the entire time, soaking in the new information.

The somber aura and face Papyrus had as he processed it all proved to be too much for Sans’ SOUL as his eye lights fell to the ground. “...And you’ve been keeping this all to yourself, Sans?”

The question wasn’t accusatory in any way, but Sans still winced. “I, uh...” Sans stuttered before he let out a long sigh. “At first, I thought he was gonna just pop back, ‘cuz that’s what he always did: he’d get himself hurt but he’d eventually spring back. So, I didn’t say anythin’.” Sans stared at his hands and all the nicks they had accumulated over the years. “Then a week became two weeks, two weeks into a month... After that, I’d just figured that it was kinda late to suddenly tell ya that this guy you couldn’t remember was our dad.” He clenched his hands, examining the knuckles. “I also started to think that our old man never actually existed––that I’d... just made the whole thing up.”

“...That’s not all,” Papyrus posited, his supraorbital ridges clenched together in brotherly worry, “is it?”

“...”

It wasn’t everything. There were two other reasons why he didn’t tell Papyrus: that cheerful, innocent look in his eye sockets when he was a babybones and that deeply imbedded thought that Sans never did acknowledge back then, and yet had still been present, had still been _there_ ––Dad wasn’t coming back. It would have been downright cruel to tell baby Papyrus that they had had a dad, but that he was never going to come back and there was nothing they could do about it.

Sans said none of this, however, and, instead, let the silence fill the room.

“...I understand,” Papyrus sighed out, used to this by now. “Just––Sans?” He peered up to Papyrus. “Please, promise me you’ll try to tell me more about these kinds of things. I know that you don’t like making promises and you think you’re keeping me from getting hurt, but... It hurts more seeing you like this.” Sans’ permanent grin lessened just a tad at the words, and his eye lights dimmed considerably, nearly making them invisible in the dark.

The quiet stretched on for a while, to the point where Papyrus was going to resign to “I understand,” yet again, when Sans whispered out:

“I promise.”

~

It was around eight o’clock on that same morning, but, instead of that laboratory-basement, the two were in front of a pastel yellow house. They were really doing this. Sans flicked his gaze once to an equally nervous Papyrus before he knocked on the door like the professional he was. He heard a mumbled and obviously tired “Coming,” and, after a moment, the door opened, revealing Alphys in her Mew Mew Kissy Cutie pajamas.

She blinked once, twice, before squinting her eyes (she didn’t have her glasses on) at the two. “Sans?” She looked up. “Papyrus?” She summoned her Shiny Glasses from her Inventory and put them on, slight confusion in her visage. “What are you t-two doing here so early?” She narrowed her gaze at Sans. “Especially you.”

Sans let out an easy laugh at the tease. “Obviously,” he winked, “to tell knock-knock jokes. But ya kinda already messed it up.” Her snout scrunched slightly in annoyance, but the smile was clear on her face. “Actually, we are here for a reason, though. Mind if we come in? It’s sorta a long story.”

The smile disappeared, replaced with curiosity as she stepped out of the way, letting the two in. “O-Of course.” The pair stepped into the house, which was filled with the sound of loud snoring. “Undyne’s still sleeping,” Alphys explained before sitting on the couch. “So, w-what’s up?”

Sans plopped himself next to Alphys. “Well, no point in beatin’ ‘round the bush, so... Have ya ever heard of the name...?”

~

By the end of the explanation, Alphys was wide-eyed and clicking her claws against one another––a nervous tic of hers. Alphys was a few years older than Sans and was thus able to be Dad's intern when he was still around. However, these memories too had been wiped, and all she had remembered was that there had been a Royal Scientist before her who had created the Core and that she had helped with this somehow. However, as Sans told Alphys about him, puzzle pieces long since lost underneath the bed were uncovered and fit together in befuddling yet logical ways.

“G-God...” she muttered, now wringing her hands together. “I can’t believe I f-forgot him...”

“It’s all right, Alphys,” Papyrus assured, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I forgot him too, and he’s my dad.”

Alphys gave him a weird look. “Um, okay? Thanks, I guess?”

Papyrus flashed a grin. “No problem!”

Alphys turned to Sans. “But why are you j-just now telling me this?” she asked.

Sans' permanent grin that otherwise remained the same size expanded just slightly. “‘Cuz he’s tryin’ to come back. I dunno how, but the old man’s managed to make contact with us through this old machine of his that I fixed up.”

Alphys’ eyes widened. “That should be impossible,” she stated. “The Void is d-disconnected from reality...” Alphys’ eyes became distant. “No, wait, not entirely. It’s outside of the n-nexus of reality, but it still has a weak connection to it. If I remember correctly from my time with him, that is...”

“Yep,” Sans confirmed, “which is why we need your help.” Sans’ eye lights flicked up to Alphys. “I think that––with your knowledge––we can get the old man back.”

Alphys blinked once before leaning back into her seat. “Sans, you’re crazy,” she said simply. Before Sans could reply, she gave a sigh. “But I am t-too. Let’s do it.”

At the words, Sans’ eye lights brightened considerably, making Alphys realize that they actually consisted of a faint light blue and yellow rather than just that off-color white. It filled her with **determination**.

~

Bringing someone back from nonexistence was challenging, to say the least. Alphys and Sans worked without break in the laboratory-basement, expanding on ideas, testing said ideas, failing or succeeding and repeating the cycle. Most would probably look at their work and describe it as tiresome, but the two toiled on with a **perseverance** that they were both unaccustomed to but gladly embraced. However, they gained this **perseverance** for different reasons: for one, it was to be reunited with his dad and to give his brother the father he deserved. For the other, it was for that and to redeem herself––to improve a life instead of damaging it.

It was in the third week of doing this that they finally got the machine to its final point. After screwing on the final panel again, they looked up at the imposing, cold machine that gave no indication that it would actually work. When working with theoretical physics, one had to have HoPe.

“Welp,” Sans let out, breaking the silence. “This is it.”

“Y-Yeah,” Alphys uttered, once again wringing her hands as she stared at the machine.

Silence enveloped the two once more before Sans finally laid a hand on one of the dials. “Let’s do this,” he said before turning to the frequency they had pinpointed as being the most receptive.

... _Nothing_.

Sans’ hand slipped off of the dial as he gave a deep sigh. “Guess we’ll hafta——”

A loud sound cut him off——a shrieking “ah” as the screen turned cyan yet again. The shaking, pointing-upward hand appeared yet again, trembling viciously as the sound became louder. “Gaster,” it was yelling at them. Alphys was quick to hurry toward the machine and twist more dials, the machine thrumming with noise and vibrations. Sans snapped out of his momentary surprise and joined Alphys, flipping various switches before typing into the console and opening the code of the universe.

Scouring over it, Sans eventually found a string of numbers and letters highlighted in the same cyan. His eye lights brightened up at it, and he simply stared at the string for a moment, a part of him believing this to not be true.

He managed to break out of his flabbergastation, however, and shout out, “I see him!” It was only after making this known that Sans noticed his entire frame shaking. However, it wasn’t because of excitement or anxiousness on his part; rather, the machine was quaking in place, making strange noises that overcame the shrill “ah” that now served as background noise.

He stepped away from it (no longer trembling as a result) and went over to Alphys. “Alph, the machine––”

“I know,” Alphys stated matter-of-factly as she made the necessary adjustments on the dials. Meticulous care was needed on the machine, for the arrows of the gauges on the side were swaying back and forth between the extremes with just the slightest of touches on those dials. It was clear that the machine wouldn’t be able to endure much more of this. And if the machine were to explode, there was no telling how long it would take to rebuild from scratch.

“ _Shit_ ,” Sans hissed under his breath as he went back to the console. Time to be desperate.

His phalanges clacked against the keys as he quickly typed out into the console,

>hey, are you there, old man?

As he waited for the response, he looked up at the screen. He could have sworn he saw a face within what was increasingly becoming static.

He flicked his eye lights back down to see a single word:

>Yes

A flood of relief came over Sans at the message, but he rapidly continued on,

>listen, i know you’re trying to get here, but you need to try harder. i don’t know how much longer the machine can do this.

>Okay

It seemed like he was only capable of one-worded responses so far, but any progress was good progress. He was about to go and see if he could help Alphys keep the machine together when another message popped up:

>Wait

Sans stuck in place at the word. The relief that he had just had was hastily replaced with fear. _Not again_.

>Not right

>Not here

“Not here?” What was that supposed to mean? Sans’ phalanges found the keyboard again.

>what do you mean?

>Wrong FUN

>what?

>Wrong FUN

Sans scowled. Apart from whatever “FUN” meant, it seemed like Gaster was lost. But that couldn’t be a possibility... right?

>are you lost?

>Yes

>Wrong FUN

Again with that term. Sans racked his mind for any memory of that acronym but came up with nothing.

>Find it

>what?

>Find FUN

>how? what even is that?

>F U N

It seemed like Gaster still didn’t have his full mind with him yet, so he wasn’t much help, nor could Alphys spare any of her brain power with it all directed to keeping the machine going. Sans would have to figure this out himself.

Deciding based on a gut decision (despite the fact he had none), he returned to the code and pored over it. Scrolling past the seemingly unending wall of numbers and letters, he nearly skipped past it: the <fun>. He hurriedly copied the string of code and switched back to the chat, pasting the code into it.

>here it is.

... _Nothing_.

>hey, i found it.

>yo, old man.

 _Absolutely nothing_. Now it wasn’t just the machine shaking, though it was still doing a good job of that.

>hey

>cmon i know youre there

What if he wasn’t? The question that he had been asking himself his entire life frayed at his already agitated mind.

>dad please

He had lost him again. He was gone, and this time it was for good. And now Papyrus knew and he would be sad and Sans had failed him and he was a horrible brother and––

>Oh

... _What_?

>Sorry

>Wasn’t paying attention

>Trying to find FUN

>Oh

>You found it

>Okay

>I’m coming

Sans stared at the chat incredulously, unsure what to make of how he had so casually stated that he was coming after having been gone so long. However, Sans was able to understand one part of it: he was coming.

Suddenly, a static noise kicked up acutely, and Sans flicked his gaze up quick enough to see two pairs of hands with holes in the middle slap against the screen. He jumped back at it as Alphys screamed out “Sans!” Before he could even turn to her, she lunged at him and forced the two of them backward just as the machine exploded.

Everything abruptly became white and all Sans could hear was ringing.

~

The first thing he heard was his own breathing, ragged and quick. Soon after recognizing that, he felt a weight roll off his belly and land with a soft “Umph,” on the ground. As he opened his eyelids to see hanging dust in the air, he could hear a discernable series of loud and large hurried thumps getting gradually closer. It was soon followed by a door slamming open and frantic footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Sans! Alphys!” Toriel cried out as she came up to the two, picking them up in her arms. “What happened? Are you two all right?” Her burgundy eyes flitted over at the various scuffs and cuts on the two, worry deeply entrenched in the dark red.

“Tori, we’re fi––” Sans started before he was interrupted by the sudden and intense urge to cough, and did so until he finally stopped with a wheeze.

By then, Papyrus and the kid (who was carrying Flowey in his flowerpot with them) had made it down there. “Geez, are you trying to blow us up?!” Flowey screeched out, looking to and fro at all the damage that had occurred. Pieces of metal were scattered about, sizeable dents were in the walls, dust was absolutely everywhere and glass shards littered the floor.

“My child, leave this room––it is not safe,” Toriel said as she finally took note of this as well, having been too preoccupied with Sans and Alphys.

As Frisk gave an “Okay, Mom,” and began to leave, Flowey shouted, “What is that?!”

Everyone directed their attention toward the back of the room, which had a black mass on the ground, indiscernible in the dust. With a loud, hacking sound, it could barely be seen convulsing on the ground. No one dared to move as they stared at it, not sure if they should help or run away. Gradually, it began to shift and stand up, growing taller and taller before its silhouette made a clear contrast in the dust: it could now be reliably stated as a humanoid figure.

“Guh! My back!” it gruffed out before (assumedly) cracking its back.

Sans perked up at the voice. It sounded like...

It then moved, its footsteps clear and sharp in the silence, before departing the cloud of dust that surrounded it. None other than the missing Doctor W. D. Gaster, theoretical physicist and leading scientist in magiology, stood there, straightening his (much tattered) lab coat before he noticed the group.

His eye lights which shone an extremely faint green and dark blue widened and lit up considerably as he took in the surprised and baffled visages of everyone. “Oh,” he simply stated before awkwardly waving to them. “Well, hi.” He barely managed to get the greeting out before he was tackle-hugged by Papyrus, letting out an “Oomph!” at it.

“Dad!” Papyrus sobbed out, squeezing even tighter onto him, as if in fear that he would disappear again if he didn’t have an anchor of sorts. “I-I’m sorry! I forgot you e-e-even though y-you’re my dad and-and––I’m a horrible son!” Papyrus rambled on in a quivering tone as he pressed his face into Gaster’s scapula, his tears wetting it.

Gaster, although at first taken aback by the sudden hug, put his arms around Papyrus, holding him tight. “No, no, not at all,” he whispered out. “I... I shouldn’t’ve left you in the first place...” Papyrus only hiccuped in response.

The two hugged for a moment longer before Gaster realized something. “Say, where’s your brother?” Papyrus backed out of the hug to look at Sans as he was finally set down by Toriel, along with Alphys.

Gaster and Sans locked eye lights across the room, and Gaster gave a small smile at him. Everything else was quiet save the shuffling of Sans’ slippers as he walked toward him, scarcely believing that this was it––he was finally going to meet his father again after so long, after so much effort.

He finally stopped in front of him, sliding his hands in his jacket pockets as he looked up at him. “Heya,” Sans greeted casually.

Gaster gave a quiet chuckle. “Hello,” he responded back before quirking a supraorbital ridge mischievously. “I can see that you haven’t grown much.”

Sans scoffed. “Hey, I’ve grown exactly three inches,” Sans joked. “Ya gotta give me some credit.” The two laughed gently at the teasing before quieting down again.

Before either could fill the silence, Gaster bent down closer to Sans’ level, his lopsided smile never leaving his face. “Thank you,” he whispered out. “If it weren’t for you, I’d still be lost in that Void...” His eye lights became distant for a moment before he looked back to Sans, his smile widening as he spread his arms. “C’mere,” the arms beckoned to him. He wasted no time in answering their call, wrapping his phalanges around the back of Gaster’s lab coat. As the hug deepened, a flow of warm, familial magic spread over to Sans, engulfing him. Sans couldn’t help the relieved, truly happy laughter that spilled out of him.

***Your HoPe has increased!**

As the three skeletons entered in a group hug, the rest stood back, watching the happy scene with smiles.

However, Flowey was instead frowning, looking at everyone with growing confusion. Finally, he growled out, “Am I really the only one who wants to know what just happened?!”

**(*END)**

**(*Oh, wait a moment...)**

After everyone in the house was caught up with everything, Gaster decided that he should make his reappearance known to everyone, with Asgore being a priority. As he left after getting directions to Asgore’s humble home, Sans couldn’t help a small chuckle––some things never change.

Soon, everyone dispersed, and it was just him and Toriel left in the basement. Now Sans could truly see the damage inflicted on the laboratory-basement, and winced at it. So much for hoping it wasn’t that bad...

“Sans,” Toriel began, walking up to his side, “I am so glad that you were able to reunite with your father, but...” She faced the now decimated crater that used to be her basement. “You do realize this means you are banned from performing experiments in this house ever again, correct?”

At the end of her sentence, the rest of the machine that had been propping up on itself this entire time finally caved in, creating a loud, dismal creak as it did so.

Sans, not knowing what else to do, rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh, kinda figured so.”

**(*TRUE END)**


End file.
